


Cold Hearts Burn The Same

by SmallRed



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallRed/pseuds/SmallRed
Summary: Widowmaker x Female Oc story.She was a new addition to the Overwatch team.  Former Marine sniper and covert ops specialist.Inner turmoil and a harsh reality leaves her reeling when a past raging in flames refuses to remain buried.Adopt Overwatch's no kill policy, or drop their bodies like flies?





	1. Greetings from King's Row

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure how this one will play out. Feedback is well appreciated!

The night was uncharacteristically cold. A frost had moved in over the Kings Row earlier that day leaving a bitter chill biting at any exposed skin. A few remaining citizens were hustling about their way undoubtedly trying to escape the wintery air. A harsh wind whipped violently through the towering buildings. Shifting slightly to get a more comfortable perch atop the clock tower I clicked the button on the communication piece in my left ear.

“Unit 301 in position. Awaiting further instruction.” Teeth chattering lightly as I finished a gruff voice came from the other end. “Watch our backs 301. Enemy combatants have been sighted in the vicinity.” Pulling the scarf back up over my freezing face a small sigh escaped my lips. Scanning the endless horizon of rooftops, the moon casted a bluish tint across everything it touched.

Gunshots and all other manner of explosions rang out from the distant left. The commotion caused a few lingering souls below to hurry off the streets. The entire area now desolate save for a few tumbling pieces of trash and a flickering street light. “I have to give it to them…Talon sure knows how to throw one hell of a shindig.”

Disappointment spread through my chest. Being on the front lines had been my pride as a marine sniper. Yet, 76 had insisted I remain on the outskirts of the battle as part of my position at Overwatch. Reconnaissance was in fact important, however, the anxiety building in my core was unavoidably infuriating. An insistent twitch had begun in my right hand.

A particularly harsh whip of wind across my masked face brought me back to the rooftops. A silence had gathered in the air. The sounds of battle were now nothing more than a sharp muffled ringing in my ears. Eyes widened to take in more as a glint of pink was caught in my peripheral. “76 please respond.” My voice was even and professional. My insides were being clawed at relentlessly in the 30 seconds it took him to respond.

“Go ahead 301.” Bout time old man.  
“Target sighted. Requesting permission to engage.”

When the rifle had appeared in my grip was unbeknownst to me. Eyes remained unblinking even in the harsh cold as I watched through the carbon black scope. Her movements were slight. Precise and efficient. She knows I’m here… “Permission granted 301. Make sure you come back in one piece.”

Combat boots met cobblestone as I lunged off the side of the tower onto a nearby roof. Gun clutched tightly to a pounding chest I made my way quickly after the retreating figure. The endless twists and turns of the chase came to an abrupt halt when the enemy in question whipped around and began firing. Dropping into a slide to reach cover I waited for her shots to cease.

Only to find bullets suddenly raining down from above as her telltale grappling hook shot her into the dark sky. Taking aim, I returned fire. What… 

I missed. Fury had become me, and I had become it. A debilitating string of images flashed through my skull. Each new visual causing a harsh twitch in my neck. A broken face being shoved down into mud as an unimaginable weight forced the air from my lungs. Dirty rope digging and tearing through the flesh of tied wrists. Blood stains. Shouting. Now a pristine lab table followed by the never ending string of masked faces. Dead eyed doctors picking away with scalpels and tongs. Screaming everywhere. Dirty puddles on an empty sidewalk. An empty waiting room. Signing delicate cursive in the recruitment office. 

Searing pain then tore through my right shoulder. As she had landed one particularly well placed shot had shredded into my body. The burning sensation clearing the incessant cloudy thoughts. Panting I glanced up at the sniper now stalking forward. In a single swift moment my rifle was being swung in her direction, and in the next the heavy piece of metal skidded loudly across the roof as she shot it from my grasp. 

The wind had stopped. The freezing air countered only by the infuriating burning from the bullet lodged inside of me. The hollow click from an empty chamber came from above me. My eyes snapped widely to the barrel of the gun directly in front of my face. Before any notion of fighting back could be gathered the woman lifted a single elegant figure and wagged it knowingly. In the same motion she pointed to where I sat kneeling. A small blinking light on the canister like device signaled that it was live, and any movement would send the toxic cloud directly into my lungs.

“Not bad for an Overwatch sniper,” her voice was degrading. The French accent flowed smoothly with every word. She took her time reloading the rifle in her hands despite the cold. Not daring to move I watched intently as she raise the gun at my head, “…but not good enough.”

The unavoidable burst of rage that followed her proclamation was swift. In a single movement I threw myself back from the venom mine, rolling backwards just out of the mists reach. The pistol tucked away at my waistline already aimed and firing. She returned the favor ten-fold as assault rifle fire followed my every move. So, this is what Morrison meant by lethal force. Talon isn’t playing around…

Shoving a new clip dutifully into the handgun I prepared for the next round of bullets that would inevitably be thrown my way. A resounding and devious chuckle came from the other side of the rooftop. “You’re different from those fools.” Standing to face her I once again felt the twitch begin in the hand gripping my gun. Eyes meeting, she raised an eyebrow to emphasize, “You were aiming for my head.” Tilting her head slightly she added, “What is your name, Chéri?”


	2. Repressed Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally able to continue this.  
> Geez on me.

The shrill screaming of the alarm clock was almost enough to make a person want to commit mass genocide. An aggravated and slightly exaggerated groan left my lips as I fought the covers to free an arm for the clock. Violently thrashing out of the sheets. The room was unbearably warm. The thick heat in the air fueled by the sunlight beaming meretriciously through the curtain-less window. My voice was rough and dry in the ear ringing silence after the alarm clock was disabled. “Fuck...I thought I closed those last night...”

There was a shift in the air, and an infuriatingly happy giggle came abruptly from the other side of the room. “That’s cause you did shut them, love! I was the one who opened them.” Without looking I unceremoniously turned the opposite direction of the cheery voice to face the window, and in the same movement closed the curtains returning the room to sweet darkness.

A blue glow was now the only substantial light source. Lena’s subdued giggling didn’t stay subtle for long after she, in a blinding blue flash, zipped to the other side of the room and flicked the light-switch on. “Come on, up and at em’!” I sighed. Sleep was no longer an option. The room had cooled only a fraction of a degree. “Fine. I’m up. Happy?” The profuse nodding of a brown topped head was my only answer. Dejectedly, I made my way toward the small gray dresser in the corner.

The room was simple. A few modern pieces of furniture dotted the space. Sitting to tie up my combat boots I glanced up at Lena who was gently fiddling with the small brown book on the end table by the head of my bed. “You’re braver than most. Daring to touch that.” Her hand jerked back. With a curved brow Lena turned inquisitively, “what do you mean by that?”

A small laugh slipped past my lips. I shook my head lightly as the memories forced their way to the top of my conscience. ...A dusty shack. Stained floors saturated with the now puddling blood beneath my chair. Five bodies. Five birds with one stone. Taking a long drag off the fine cigar left in the ashtray by its former owner an amused laugh spilled from cracked lips. Empty revolver still smoking in the aftermath. The voice that then broke the silence was distant, yet familiar. “Oh this! This is why I love this game guys!”...

“Let’s just say it’s private and leave it at that, please?” A forced smile, pleading eyes for effect. The air was tight. Restraint was important. Unexpectedly the brunette smiled softly in understanding. “Don’t worry, I won’t mess with it.” She held her hands palm out in mock surrender before blinking to the door.

“We’ve got a meeting in five. Special assignments to be given out...you know, the usual.” The lock clicked behind her and in the newfound ease in the room I reached for the journal. Smooth brown leather returned safely to the then secured pocket on the cargo pants. Collecting my plain black ball cap I headed for the meeting room.

A strike plan here. Defense formation there. Follow it up with a brief overview of the enemies projected movements. Add in some potential choke point suggestions and you get the ever monotonous flow of every single one of the commander’s mission debriefs. He was curt and to the point without any extra filler. The order demanded was effortlessly given. Optimal results can only be achieved if a sniper is alert and observant. As soon as it started, the meeting had ended.

Once the shuffling had calmed down I made a move to stand. Morrison had been patiently waiting to approach and his voice was even without the gruff nature he spoke in during missions. “Agent, I was hoping to have a word with you about our last deployment in Kings Row.” An easy ‘of course sir’ was immediately reciprocated by a gesture to follow. His office was more quaint than one would expect, however, it wasn’t as if Overwatch was an official organization rolling in dough anymore.

“Please, have a seat if you’d like.” Morrison walked casually to his chair. My tone was lackluster at best, “if you don’t mind sir, I’d rather stand.” He nodded shortly. Flipping open the particularly dense file on the desk the commander pulled the most recent stack of crisp papers stapled together. “Now then, agent Gagné? Am I saying that right?” A slight tilt of the chin and I corrected slowly, “gon-yay.” He nodded repeating the word under his breath as he flipped through a couple pages.

“You reported a confrontation with the widow. Any lesser agent most likely would’ve come back to us in a bag. How did you engage her without sustaining any real injury?” His eyes were dry and cold. Their cathartic blue prompting a quick decisive answer. “I was a marine sir. To be frank, there hasn’t been a situation that I couldn’t handle yet.” He waved his hand dismissively, “not what I was asking agent.” My jaw tightened the smallest iota. He wanted a complete recall of everything that followed in the pursuit of the enemy.

“My apologies, sir. I pursued the Talon threat to a nearby rooftop where an engagement occurred.” Morrison nodded once in acknowledgment, “go on.”

...”What is your name, chéri?” I felt my eyes widen the slightest bit. Why would a Talon sniper stop to speak mid-battle? Was she really so confident in her abilities over mine? How disgusting. The air was crisp. Yet, the insatiable boiling in my gut was almost painful. “Why does it matter?” My voice was smaller than I would’ve liked. Even in tone none the less. The woman then stood a little straighter as she began a slow stride toward my crouched position. The gas from the bomb had expanded more than expected. I cursed myself over and over in light of the second mistake that then had been made on the mission. Pistol shaking empty in my right hand. The Widowmaker. Talon’s best. Possibly the best in the world at this point. “I do not like repeating myself chéri.” Her voice was darkly cultivated. The clear french accent only amplifying it’s effect. “You are different. You aim to kill...” My eyes locked with hers, “...Overwatch does not aim to kill. So I ask, who are you?” ... 

Morrison’s office seemed a little bit smaller at the moment. “There was a small shoot-out before the target in question used some kind of poison mine to escape.”


	3. Violent Tendencies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels good to be writing again.
> 
> As always,  
> thanks for reading!

Sitting alone in the almost blissful silence of the Overwatch commons area I took a sip of my coffee before returning to work. The room around me smelled lightly of cleaner. There were a few tables equipped with desktops, accompanied by a small beige couch and two recliners. Taking another sip I sighed in aggravation. It had been the collective decision between Morrison and Amari to put me on information detail until further notice despite my adamant rejection of the proposal. The summarized version of my detainment from any more action in the field at the moment was due to the concern toward my mental state after running into a tenured Talon agent; on top of having an extremely volatile nature in general.

Some downtime wasn’t necessarily the worst, however, there was an insistent itch that had been crawling through the back of my skull for the last three days. ‘Didn’t train your body all those years to end up at a desk.’ Shifting uncomfortably I tried to focus on the report I was currently typing out for Amari. Dry reading was the unfortunate bastard child of dry writing in an endless, vicious, and damn near pointless cycle. The words filling the screen fell on unfocused eyes as my thoughts drifted back to Morrison’s office after Amari had been called in to help decide my next assignment. It had been a few days after mine and the commanders previous meeting post-mission.

...Mouth slightly agape, I stared incredulously at the pair of old soldiers in front of me. Morrison sat at his desk with his elbows propped and hands clasped tightly together. The lines worn on his face from years of stress doing nothing to ease the stern look in his eyes as he gave me my new mission detail. “We believe it would be best for you to take it easy for the next few days..” He then raised a hand to halt the words threatening to spill out in objection, “...as capable as you are, we cannot risk another incident.” My mouth shut tightly and I felt my teeth begin to grind with a clenched jaw. Seeing the unchecked fury in my eyes Amari quickly cut in, “Please understand Miss Gagné, we only have your best interests in mind. If anything happened we would certainly feel the effects of losing you.”…

Taking a deep breath to calm the rising irritation in my chest I saved my finished work. Gulping the last of my quickly cooling coffee I began shuffling the small pile of papers on the table into a neat pile. While fixing said papers into a single binder, the distinct click of heals could be heard from the hall. Glancing up I nodded in acknowledgment to doctor Ziegler as she entered. Appearances were important; even more so when under the intuitive gaze of someone like the doctor.

“Oh! Agent Gagné, I didn’t know you were sti-” A hand came to rest on her lips as she undoubtedly remembered being informed of my current assignment, “I am so sorry! I do not mean to be so forgetful, especially when it comes to the well being of our agents.” Before she could continue any more apologies I raised a hand waving it dismissively, “no offense taken doctor.” A closed eyed grin was tossed in for good measure and her brow noticeably relaxed. A soft smile had spread across her face as she made her way across the room, gesturing to the seat adjacent to me I nodded once in confirmation as she moved to sit. 

“If you would like we can get your scheduled appointment out of the way now if you’re not too busy that is?” Her head tilted the slightest bit, eyes shining with her proposal. Sweeping a hand at the now-closed binder I sat a little straighter in my chair, “it would be no problem at all doctor Ziegler, I actually just finished.” The air was caught in my lungs. The room suddenly feeling like a minefield. One wrong move, or answer, or reaction could end with me on desk-work for another week at least. The appointment in question was a follow up mental assessment after the incident that got me put on information detail in the first place.

...After the initial meeting with Morrison, I made my way to the mess hall. The noise and bustle of the room was almost overbearing when combined with the growing sickness in my gut. Sitting at an empty table; a small sigh escaped tight lungs as a shaky hand reached for my drink only to find it missing. ‘The fuck?’ An incessant throbbing began in my temple as I fought to keep my anger in check. A blank stare was raised to look questioningly at the unfamiliar agent standing on the other side of the table, long lost drink in his hand. The twitch in my own hand returning tenfold at the sight of the imbeciles pretentious grin. 

“Soooo you’re the new blood everyone’s been hearin’ about? Is it true a runt like you fought with the Widow and lived?” Adjusting my position I sat back to cut my eyes up at him maliciously. There was a certain animosity permeating the air around the table, “if you wouldn’t mind I’d like to eat in peace...” Every word was lined with venom as I spoke. It felt as if there was a steel cable twisting tighter and tighter at every passing second. “Honestly, I’ve never met anyone so unimpressive.” He then gave a laugh that was repugnant in quality. Leaning down slightly, he began shaking the can back and forth before tipping it the rest of the way to pour it out onto the tray of food in front of me. The coil twisted taught and snapped. With blinding speed, the agent had been grabbed and slammed face down by his collar. The resounding smack of his face meeting the cold steel of the table drawing immediate attention in the room. ‘Do it.’

A combat knife having appeared almost out of thin air then came crashing down next to the agents face. His eyes widened and tears surfaced as I felt the snarl leave my lips. Face inches from his own I felt the painful grin begin to crack across my features, “honestly, I’ve never met anyone who wanted to die as bad as you apparently do...” A firm voice then cut through the air powerfully as Reinhardt arrived to interject, undoubtedly called by one of the startled on-lookers. “That’s quite enough agent Gagné, I’m sure he’s learned his lesson.” …

The dull whir of the ceiling fan brought me back to the concerned eyes of doctor Ziegler. I shook my head lightly, “I would like to apologize once again, doctor. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately; I’m certain it’s just been the exhaustion setting in between my reassignment here and all the extra training.” The lie flowed smoother than a river. Ziegler nodded in understanding, “I had suspected as much. You seem to be doing much better though. So, I’m going to advise the commander to allow you to return to the field as soon as possible.” She smiled genuinely and the itch dug in ten-fold.

Faking a smile in return, I stood with the doctor thanking her profusely. Making my way out of the commons area I b-lined for my room. The soft thump of my boots down the hall being the only sound in the vicinity. I had nearly sighed with relief upon reaching the bedroom door. The sweet silence of the room enveloping every dark corner as I made my way to the bed. Inner turmoil building with every second that passed. ‘You know this all could have been avoided...’ “Shut up.” ‘...had you just killed that sniper when you had the chance.’ “I SAID SHUT UP.” As soon as I was down I was up. Fist smashing relentlessly into the floor, “shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” Every nerve was on edge. There was a whisper of a cruel laugh in the air as the room shrunk to a constricting size. Needy gasps for breath filled my lungs as my entire body trembled uncontrollably. ‘Why didn’t you, I wonder?’

...Blurry eyes peered up at the sniper as she waited patiently for an answer. The cold whipping across the rooftop fervently increasing as time passed. Each breath in was colder than the last as I fought to clear the remaining poison from my lungs. The Widowmaker remained unfazed. She expected an answer. ‘You’re pathetic.’ My blood was boiling in contrast to the cool air. She tsk’ed, and I felt my pupils dilate. A guttural, frustrated noise left my throat as I felt my body lunge forward.

Nails clawed into the stone for leverage, every muscle strained painfully beneath burning skin. A flurry of attacks flew from a trained stance. She dodged every hit until one particularly vicious swing caused the widow to stumble. Capitalizing on her loss of balance, I found myself then double-legging the sniper harshly into the rooftop before straddling her prone form. Even with all the air forced from her lungs, she managed to throw an arm forward into a small opening. Jaw feeling the full force of her swing, all conscientious thought ceased. 

“AAAaarrrrrggghhhhaa!” The sound was primal, and two tightly wound fists soon found solace tearing at the scalp. A blinding sequence of lights flashed behind scrunched eyelids. A man's face flashed unexpectedly, a soft look on his face. Chestnut hair haphazardly ruffled with a loving smile beneath a bearded face. Another flash and that same face was gruesomely torn to shreds. Blood filling my peripherals. ‘Kill.’ “No!” The downed sniper froze. Violently jerking from side to side I tried desperately to shake the visions surfacing. ‘Kill. Her.’ “I said no!” 

When my eyes reopened, I was standing some five feet away from where the Widow was simply sitting. I was panting now. Casting a sharp glance her way I shook my head once more. Now standing straight I made my way over to her extending a hand. Her features showing mild bewilderment, she took the hand regardless. Still twitching slightly I nodded at her before turning to walk toward the edge of the roof. I sighed preparing to descend. Casting a look over my shoulder at the still perplexed sniper I added simply, “my name is Ellana...” After short consideration I finished, “...Ellana Gagné.” There was a minuscule change in the Talon snipers features at the declaration of a French surname. The ghost of a smirk on the corner of her lips as I dropped off the edge of the building…

My eyes shot open. The room was cold from where I woke on the floor. The itch now just a dull burn in the back of a stiff neck. Standing to stretch I yawned, wincing at the sudden pain in my right fist. Knuckles purple and red from thrashing the floor I sighed, casting a solemn look over at the clock on the night-stand I grimaced at the bright four. The uninjured hand found its way to my temple, massaging it weakly. “Why didn’t I kill you?” There was a creeping uneasiness crawling up my spine as I nearly tumbled onto the mattress.


	4. Trouble on the Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More updates to come soon!
> 
> This is more of a backstory chapter to give you guys some more knowledge on the events of Gagne's past.
> 
> As always,  
> thank you for reading.

There was a thick uneasiness in the room as the commander went over our latest assignment. The dull hum of the projector the only prominent sound in the dark office. The room smelled lightly of paperwork and judging by the piles laying around the room we had our work cut out for us. Voice droning on with every passing slide, the commander’s eyes were blank; empty and unnatural for him. Leaning back in my chair I took a quiet breath. The stakes had gotten higher. The incessant twitch in my hand had calmed down earlier in the morning; only to return full force with the stress of this mission debrief. A yawn came from my left. Cutting my eyes at its source, I nearly choked on my exhale as my glance was met full force by Symmetra’s own expectant gaze. ‘Eyes front.’

Morrison had called the woman in for assistance on our mission. As such, I had been introduced to her the previous day. The air around her was almost as dry as her attitude. Her foot tapped in what one might assume is impatience, however, her complete control of her surroundings proved otherwise. She was unnerving yet, completely necessary for the task at hand. We received a special request from one of Overwatch’s former investors. A patron of the Shambali, he requested security detail and personal escort for a delicate situation. “They’re going to be introducing a new exhibit at the Numbani Heritage Museum.” Morrison clicked to the next slide, an overhead shot of Numbani showed our path. “We have to make sure this goes smoothly, however, we are expecting resistance given the circumstances.” Morrison was worried, and with good reason. The museum’s new installment was one regarding a new era of peace between Omnic and human life. Talon was undoubtedly going to crash this party. “This will be a close-knit operation. We must be discreet and it is imperative we do not fail.” ‘Talon, huh?’ Fighting back the surfacing memories of that night on the rooftop, I tried desperately to focus on the commander’s words.

As the meeting was adjourned I made my way out of the office. A light tap on my shoulder causing me to freeze before turning to find it’s source. The gentle expression on the older woman's face prompting an immediate relaxation on my part. Ana Amari was an impressively ethereal being for sure; her presence almost forgotten in Morrison’s office. “I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for some tea?” A small warmth spread slightly in my chest before I had time to quell it. Sighing shortly as I met the old sniper eyes I nodded in defeat, “it is impossible to say no to you miss Amari.” Her joyous laugh was pleasant and she followed it up with a small hand gesture, “Ta’alay ma’ee.” (“Come with me.”)

Following Amari through the halls, I struggled to remain calm. My blood was boiling; no reason clear. There were a few agents dotting the area as we stopped at a closed door. Quickly typing in a passkey, Amari stepped to the side so I could enter first. An anxious gnawing beginning in my gut in response to my new surroundings. Lively curtains were pulled open, allowing ample sunlight to spill into a room double the size of my own living quarters. The bed was pristine and tidy with a number of plush pillows decorating it. 

The adjacent corner of the room held a small lounge area adorned with a couch, a couple small chairs, and coffee table. An accompanying kitchen was separated by a small island. There was a slight jolt in my spine as the door closed and Amari made her way to the kitchen area. She pulled a daintily decorated kettle out and began running some water, a small laugh catching in her throat as she glanced back in my direction; voice lined with mirth as she spoke, “do not be a stranger, please have a seat miss Gagné.” My face contorted into slight discomfort as an unavoidable image of the chestnut-haired man was laughing. 

In the next moment realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been standing rigid, visibly uncomfortable in the newfound cordial environment. Muscles tight in anticipation as if preparing to fend off an attack as the beast clawed beneath paper skin. ‘Ha! Nice, make it more obvious why don’t ya?’ Alarms were going off in my skull at every turn as I made my way to sit on the end of the couch. Gaze finding the floor I clasped my hands tightly in my lap trying to hide the twitch running rampant in my hand. The particular vexation ceasing only for a second at the impression of added weight easing into the couch from my right.

Amari then placed two steaming, elegant tea-cups on the table. She turned to face me before continuing, “We leave in just a few short hours for Numbani; I’m glad you could join me.” Her voice was soft and hiding something. My muscles were uncontrollably taught as I struggled to speak evenly despite the itch in my skull, “if you don’t mind me asking...” Amari’s eyes met mine while she took a sip, “...why did you really invite me here?” The air was still. Amari leaned forward to return her cup to the table, an unreadable expression on her face. Knowing eyes then caught mine, “nothing gets past you does it?” She gave a light laugh before shaking her head, “It has been rough, but you’ve come a long way since joining us.”

...Sand covered everything. It was impossible to be rid of it since the infuriating granules worked their way into every possible crevice. The sun was blinding and excessively hot. Leaning against the wall of a nearby alleyway I let my eyes scan the attached plaza. A few children were enjoying a stone fountain while their parents shopped. Laughter and conversation spilled cheerfully from the cafe to my left. Letting my hand wander to my pocket, I grimaced at the newfound hole that had been worn there. Living on the streets was hell on clothing, and I’d have to take a new bounty soon in order to eat. The harsh grumbling of my stomach solidifying the reality of my situation. 

It had been three months at this point. Three whole months since my abandonment. My platoon had been wiped inexplicably from the face of the planet in one short night. Through the darkness and the deafening shrieks of Omnic artillery, I had somehow survived. The next morning the military had already pulled out. As far as they were concerned, I was a corpse. Pushing myself off the wall I dusted off my pants. Freezing, my head snapped to the sky. The unmistakable whistle was a warning in the wind. Concerned shouting befell the area. Then, the impact hit.

Screams were all around as the air was sucked from the area from the bombing. Unknown attackers flooding the streets in droves. Breaking from the alley and into a full sprint I hopped a cart before taking cover. Assault rifle fire cackled mercilessly drowning out any other sound with roaring metal laughter. “Shit!” Coughing the dust from my lungs, I flattened my body against the ground to minimize exposure. Quickly ripping the pistol from my waistline, I popped the clip to count the bullets housed there. ‘Six.’ The gunfire was now coming in short bursts as the assailants found their marks one by one. Taking a particularly deep breath I closed my eyes. The heavy clomp of boots moving closer. And then…

Bristling hatred filled my being. My eyes snapped open and in one swift movement I was standing. The startled men moving to take aim, until six clean shots cut through six unassuming skulls. Bodies crumpling in a heap of blood and sand. Quickly sliding next to one of the bodies I tried to unstrap the gun attached there. Fighting the clip my eyes widened in surprise. It was jammed. The loud footsteps crashing through an adjacent street came to a halt; my head jerked up to catch sight of the rifles then pointed in my direction. ‘These guys are for real aren’t they?...’ My breathing shaky I raised my hands in defeat as the men readied their shots. ‘...no prisoners, shit.’ In the next breath, the soldier closest to me found his gun out shot out of his hands. A panic spread to the surrounding men, this would be the only chance. 

Lunging forward I nabbed the dropped rifle as another one of the men were disarmed. Raising the gun I unloaded. Five more bodies joining the six. Panting I rested the gun in my arms, ‘All clear.’ There was a small thump from behind me, whipping around my rifle was met by the pointed look of a masked figure. Blue accents decorated their black attire. They made no move, only watched. Claws ground into my neck as I bit my lip to alleviate the growing fury. “And just who the fuck are you?” 

The stranger raised a hand waving it and shaking their head in dismissal. ‘Fuck that, kill them.’ My eye twitched, left hand tightening on the grip of the gun. The mask jolted in shock before quickly pulling out a pistol. Bullets rang out as they dodged. There was a pinpoint pain in my leg and I glanced down to find a dart embedded there. World spinning slightly, I fell to a knee. Tossing the rifle now empty of bullets, I pulled the dart out before eyes locking with the mask. 

Words couldn’t begin to force their way through gritted teeth as the figure approached slowly. Sitting their own rifle to the side, they crouched down to my kneeling position. My eyes were slightly bleary as I fought for consciousness. Bitterness in every word I spoke in a snarl; my body trembling, “You better kill me. You better kill me.” The mantra was repeated several more times under my breath as the figure then began to remove their mask. “It is okay child. No one is going to kill you today.” …

The aura in Amari’s presence had shifted slightly as our conversation died down. I sighed pushing back the memories once more, “I owe you my life Miss Amari, that much is for sure.” A joyous laugh filled the air as Amari shook her head, “not at all child. You were doing just fine when I found you. And now, you’re even better.” I nodded in agreement. “Come now...” Amari stood taking the now empty cups, “we have a mission to complete.”


	5. A Proposition is Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot!
> 
> Here's another!  
> Hope everyone is enjoying so far and as always-
> 
> -Thank you for reading!

The Adawe International Terminal was teeming with life. Humans, Omnics, and security robots filled every precipice. There were long eye-catching banners on every wall promoting the new exhibit. Walking in step behind our client I adjusted my ball-cap to shade my face from any wandering eyes. ‘Or scopes for that matter...’ “Shut it.” My voice was nothing more than a harsh exhale among the bustling chatter of Numbani’s crowd. “What was that 301?” The voice that cut through my communication piece was curt and I cursed myself for not realizing the commander had been talking. Twitch settling in much too soon I spoke quickly, “my apologies sir, but we’re being watched.”

As our client broke the plane of the doors I started counting possible enemies. A man reading the paper on a bench, another who was sitting at the cafe across the street. Two men talking to one another on the sidewalk, both their eyes precariously glanced up as our client reached the car. Morrison stood rigid as he waited to open the client’s door, disguised in uniform as a chauffeur. He motioned to the Omnic driver after he shut the door, before they both took a seat in the front of the car. Stepping off to the side I kept moving past the car and across the street making my way toward the museum a few blocks off. The towering buildings of Numbani almost alive with the sun reflecting off every window. Symmetra’s voice cut through the comm silence, “I am in position at the exhibit. How long till you arrive?” 

As Morrison answered there was a distinct beeping in my ear; I stretched nonchalantly to land a hand on my comm piece before clicking to change the channel. “Go ahead, mam.” Keeping my eyes straight as I passed the cafe where Amari was set up, her voice came through softly. “I have the camera feed up and running, I’ll let you know if there’s anyone coming your way. You’re good to take up position.” “Understood.” I pulled on the collar of my plain black wind-breaker before turning left off the street and into the hotel adjacent from the museum. There were only a small handful of people in the lobby as I ducked into the stair-well toward the balcony. 

My position was overlooking the road leading away from the museum. Morrison claimed to have Intel that Talon would make their move as we made to depart. As such my position was best for clearing their path should Talon interfere there. Dropping the light weight jacket on a nearby couch I moved to pop the grate on a nearby air vent before pulling out a duffle-bag. Assembling my sniper took no time at all as Morrison announced his and the clients arrival at the museum, “status update.” Latching the last strap of my combat vest I peered through my scope scanning the nearby balconies and rooftops. Symmetra was the first to respond, Ana’s voice breaking through shortly after. Resting my rifle in my arms I watched the unassuming masses move through the streets. A new burn settling in my chest. “All clear, sir.”

There was an order for radio silence until the conclusion of the exhibit reveal and the lines went dead. A long sigh escaped dry lips as I leaned back against the balcony wall. Every nerve was on edge in anticipation for the inevitable. The burn now turning into a fluttering uneasiness. Different from the unsettling atmosphere of Morrison’s office. The bustle of the street was strange. ‘Something isn’t right.’ 

A couple of hours passed with no sign of Talon. The event was drawing to a close as a number of guests filled the street in departure. Hailing cabs and speaking fondly with other patrons in the ending minutes of their evening. Clicking my earpiece back on my voice was dry, “76 please respond.” Not two minutes later the commanders voice replied, “report.” I raised my scope to look at the oddly clear street, “something is up, sir. The streets are empty.” Morrison confirmed before calling in to Symmetra and Amari. A second unnerving silence gripped the lines. The air had cooled considerably with the transition to night. A light breeze whispered through the city with the promise of danger.

Morrison stepped out of the museum ahead of our client. Halting, he looked around perplexed before his voice cut gruffly into the comm lines. “We have an issue team. Our transportation hasn’t arrived yet. Ana I need eyes on our vehicle.” There was another pause and my grip tightened on my gun to attempt to alleviate the violent spasm in my trigger finger. “Amari here. He just pulled out of the parking garage, seems there’s more foot traffic than we expected.” Symmetra added her own update as the car rounded the block. As the vehicle came to a halt at the sidewalk Morrison had barely took hold of the door’s handle before an explosion rocked the building. Debris crumbling violently in all directions.

In a fraction of a second Talon agents poured from either side of the street out of what appeared to be nothing. Tell-tale black attire flooding out of every alley and doorway as Morrison ripped the door open to the car shoving our client and himself in the back. Morrison’s voice had barely choked through the comm piece before gunfire rang out in a deafening roar. The car took off at once; an innumerable amount of bullets rebounding off the vehicle, “we are in transit to the terminal. 301 you are authorized to engage. Keep it clean.” Symmetra’s voice broke through the comm as I clicked off my safety. Talon agents had taken up position directly where we thought they would, trying to head the car off from it’s destination. The itch dissolved and my eyes widened. Body going numb, my breath became even and almost silent. ‘Engage. Clear. Engage. Clear.’

The first shot left my rifle and blood erupted from the back of a distant Talon agents helmet. The initial impact causing the head to snap back before the agents body came smashing down into the concrete completely lifeless. In the stunned moment after the body landed, two more Talon agents had been dropped. The mass of black-clad soldiers scrabbled for better cover against the unseen sniping force. A small laugh escaped my lips. “Ellana-!” Amari’s voice was urgent until being cut out completely as Morrison’s voice took over the comms. “What the hell are you doing agent!? I said maiming shots only!” My head was heavy as I released another round of bullets. Each one hitting their mark. ‘What’s this...feeling?’

The car had stopped moving while I continued firing to disperse the Talon forces down the street. Morrison’s yelling never ceasing as four more Talon soldiers fell limp. “Agent Gagné!” An aggravated tsk’ left my mouth as I quickly yanked the earpiece out of my ear. Spiking the device, my shooting paused as I proceeded to stomp out the infuriating piece of technology. Blood boiling I took two more shots. Two more lives.

There was a dark chuckle from behind me. A chill gripped the room. ‘MOVE.’ Rolling to the side I whipped my rifle around to face the intruder, only to have the gun shot from my grasp. A few stray pieces of slug-shot shredding their way into the skin on my arm. Hitting the floor hard, I slid back a couple feet as a hiss forced it’s way out of my lips. My eyes locked in unbridled rage with the dark holes of the Reaper’s mask. My head was painfully acute to my surroundings. ‘Kill him too.’ A sinister laugh cut through the air, “here I was wondering how hard I’d have to hit you to make sure you couldn’t contact the rest of your pathetic team. But it looks like you solved that problem for me.” Reaper then made a point of grinding his boot over the already debilitated pieces of my crushed communicator.

Everything felt feral. My face held nothing less of a snarl as Reaper kept his shotgun aimed at my face. The obsidian barrel staring back like the pits of hell. He gestured to the nearby rifle, “So you’re Overwatch’s new sniper? Gotta say-” He nodded toward the street now littered at least twenty dead Talon operatives, “-I’m impressed.” The room was hushed. Gunfire rang out ceaselessly from the street below. My teeth ground against each other as I fought to remain controlled. There was an unshakable spasm beginning in every limb.

Reaper gestured to the balcony, “You killed a good number of my men.” My mouth remained shut and my eyes cut harshly up at the darkly cloaked figure. He sighs before crouching down to eye level. His voice insidious and low as his mask tilted the smallest iota, “We both know that action is not tolerated by the soldier boy’s Overwatch policy.” My head was throbbing with the ever growing heat beneath my skin. There was a particular sneer in his tone as he continued, “And I’m willing to bet this isn’t the first time you’ve broke that policy.” That did it.

Shooting forward off my heels, my attempt at a take-down was met by Reaper effortlessly smashing my face into the hard floor. Clawed hand holding me down by the back of the neck while his knee dug gratingly into my lower spine. Muscles burning and head spinning I struggled to make eye contact with the mask. Twisting painfully in his hold, Reaper shook his head. “Judging by your reaction, I’d say I’m right.” I now found myself panting; air uneasily finding my lungs due to the weight of the man on my back. His voice had turned ominous as he jabbed one of his shotguns into my side. My struggling movements halting immediately.

“Tell me, does the good Doctor tell you your unstable? That your need for violence is unnatural?” My eyes widened yet words wouldn’t come out. Reaper laughed in a raspy chuckle, “it’s the exact same thing that was told to us Blackwatch members once all the Omnic shit was over.” The next thing the legendary Talon agent did was bewildering. He removed his shotgun before standing up and taking a couple steps to the side of my prone form, “get up.” My legs were under me before I could stop them; Reaper’s words falling off at the sudden movement. I turned to face the dark mass much more cautiously as he rested his gun on a shoulder with a strange casualness. “Your abilities are wasted with those idiots.” Eyes wide, there was a distinct ringing in my ears as the Reaper continued. “You’re a liability for them. They’ll use you up and spit you right back out once you’ve outlived your usefulness. They’ll leave you for dead just like they did me.” My mind was ablaze with the memories from the desert. The weak laughter of my platoon. Blue mask blurring with my rising anger. Noticing the distant look in my gaze Reaper laughed. “What’s your point?” My voice was all but a harsh growl. Reaper leaned in slightly, “Talon would help you see your full potential. Talon would free you.”

My body tensed as the air changed. “Of course we don’t expect you to respond immediately-,” Reaper’s mist flared slightly before I found myself kicked swiftly in the chest, falling from the balcony ledge. As I hit the road my sternum compressed agonizingly tight; our clients car swerving wildly around me. Talon agents were now in retreat. There was a loud hiss of breaks; head whipping up as I caught sight of the commander lunging out of the vehicle. A panicked look on his face when in the next breath the black car exploded into a metal heap of flames. My head jerked back to the balcony to find it empty as pain erupted from my forgotten shrapnel filled arm. ‘Oh...they really do know how to throw a party!’ My voice was choked, “I thought I said shut up...” Whispers spun heavily in my head as my body fell to unconsciousness.

Ana sighed before darting across the street. Bullet holes lined every wall and object around. Placing her head down, she breathed out in relief at the sound of the faint heartbeat. Casting a glance to the smoke filled sky she placed a hand to her ear, “I’ve found 301. Requesting immediate evac.” Morrison’s rough voice came through the other end in an irate fury as Ana then looked to the balcony above, “She’s hurt Jack. Reaper got to her.” The line cut out abruptly as a hover-jet lowered easily from above.


	6. The Cliff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the last but hey,  
> all the more interesting. Things are heating up ya' know?
> 
> Everything is messed up.  
> Nothing is what it seems.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Feedback is appreciated!

Darkness was everywhere. The consuming blackness of the void throbbed painfully behind closed eyelids. A number of voices were swirling about as I scrunched my eyes tight to try and quiet them. “When do you think she’ll be awake?” Lights flashed painfully then, blinding my closed eyes. An aggravated sigh came from the opposite side of the room, “as I’ve already told you Jack, I don’t know when she’ll wake up.” Ana’s voice was much more hushed than the commanders. The confined space almost resonating with the older soldiers animosity, “this was the last straw Ana. We can’t afford to have her jeopardizing the teams safety any longer.” My throat felt dry. The room chilled and every hair had began to stand up in anticipation.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” My eyes almost shot open at the sound of Ana Amari finally losing her composure. The thick smell of sterile solution covered the room. Every breath was met by the tug of rough sheets tucked around my form. ‘Infirmary.’ An abrupt clamber of metal on metal caused my eyes to crack the slightest bit. Morrison had slammed a nearby bedpan into a small steel operating cart. His brow knit together in obvious irritation as Ana stood staring back with her expression set defiantly. “Do you know how many men she killed out there?! She’s dangerous Ana!” Morrison’s words bled with his unchecked anger.

“We had no idea Talon would hack the driver of the car.” My mind flashed back to the street as we left the train terminal. The driver of our clients car was an Omnic… Ana’s voice was smoldering, “Furthermore we could’ve never guessed they’d turn him into a walking bomb. This was a loss for us Jack, and there was nothing any of us could’ve done to stop it.” There was a condescending snort from the corner as Symmetra stepped forward to interject, “with all due respect there’s plenty we could have done to stop this.” The harsh clicking of a remote was followed by the small TV hung in the opposite corner of the room coming to life. 

A news cast covering the disaster from the museum steps. There was a shift as Symmetra crossed her arms, “I agree with Morrison. Those streets are too heavily populated by civilians, she was out of line.” My right hand had began gripping the sheets painfully albeit uneasily. In that moment my skin began prickling in awareness. My wrists were strapped up and bound to the bars of the medical bed. Morrison’s voice seemed different in the next moment, “regardless of whether we could’ve done anything more in Numbani isn’t my point.” There was a pause before Morrison continued, “my decision wasn’t based on a failed mission.” The claws were relentless in my skull. 

The quarrel in the room continuing without missing a beat until the sharp repetitious claps of someone commanding attention came from the doorway. All eyes then fell on a rather pissed Angela Ziegler. “All of you, out.” The room then fell to a hush at the shuffling of feet. The room clearing as they left one by one. My head was throbbing in the haze of silence. The door was shut quietly as the television was clicked off. Doctor Ziegler took a seat next to the bed twisting some excess water from a wet rag. “You can open your eyes now, they’re gone.” Eyes blinking away the brightness of fluorescent lights, I felt my gaze shift to find the waiting face of the doctor staring intently. She reached over gently to dab the rag to my brow. “My apologies, things have been really tense in the last three hours since you all returned. All the yelling and well-” I blinked blankly at the doctor. She froze.

“There was...quite the commotion when you all got back, don’t you remember?” Her eyes were worried now as she sat back in her seat. The air in the room now gripped by a choking uncertainty. The itch settled under my skin as the doctor promptly set the rag aside. Standing she made her way over to a small table before grabbing the laptop that had been thankfully left there by Ana in her angered state. She turned the device to face me; a security camera feed of the airship docks already on the screen. The itch in my head amplifying tenfold. The video showed me walking off the airship with the others. My voice escaped in a whisper, “What is this.” Ziegler’s hands tightened the smallest bit on the computer.

The camera zoomed in slightly on the movement as the team stopped walking. Morrison turning to face myself and Ana rather quickly. The motion nothing less of agitated as the team then broke out into a full blown shouting match. ‘Everyone except you.’ My eyes refused to blink as I focused in on the blank expression of my face on the screen. My jaw clenched; the eating feeling in my gut turning into a burning uneasiness. The feed skipped for a second. Suddenly Morrison had a boot to my chest, my arms on the bottom of his leg trying to push back. My head felt heavy. His rifle aimed dead center of my skull as he appeared to be enraged and shouting violently. Ana and Symmetra were a few feet away, clearly trying to defuse the situation. There was a small movement of my lips; his visor activated... The feed went black and Ziegler set the laptop aside. Her face unreadable.

“You’ll be staying on base for a little while. At least until things calm down.” Ziegler stood to move to the door. My voice was more venomous than expected and I choked to adjust my tone, “Wait! What do you mean? How long is a little while?” Composure was now a tightly wound thread slowly but surely being ripped apart. The doctor let her hand rest on the door handle before speaking. Her back turned the entire time. “You’re mental health seems to be deteriorating. You’re being placed on guarded medical rest.” She then opened the door and two unfamiliar Overwatch agents entered. Grabbing either end of the bed they began to roll down the hall. Ziegler’s face downcast as the bed passed through the doorway. Everything was numb. My ears ringing in a deafening silence. A few agents passed us in the hall, their faces oddly panicked. A small smile graced dry lips as my eyes dulled, chest tightening painfully. ‘The guards aren’t for you...’ Reaper’s faint laughter danced at the ends of my consciousness.

Days dragged into weeks. The weeks then drug into months. I paced the room slowly. There wasn’t much opportunity for exercise anymore. Morrison had made it very clear I wasn’t to leave the upgraded holding cell until I was deemed ‘stable.’ There was an ever increasing sickness stirring in my blood. A knock at the door halted my movements. Taking a few steps back I waited for the visitor to enter. The door opened to a smiling doctor Ziegler, a small black laptop tucked under her right arm. “Guten abend! How are you feeling today.” The room was answered with silence. Ziegler nodded having been prepared for the response. There hadn’t been a response for the entirety of the last two out of three months.

My eyes followed her almost lazily as she sat the laptop on the simple twin bed in the corner. The room was small and cell like. Locked from the outside instead of inside. She turned with the infuriating smile still on her face, “It was the collective decision that without some form of mental nourishment you might get worse.” I The doctor nodded and then she was gone. Door locking loudly behind her. For a solid five minutes I stared at the device. A quick exhale leaving my lungs as I made my way to the bed. Situating the laptop on my legs I powered the thing on.

The Athena icon appeared before just as quickly leaving. A login screen now glowed blue. A pre-generated guest account stared back at me. I sighed, it was better than nothing. The next few hours were fairly pleasant compared to the dull months before. Ziegler stopped in for her regularly scheduled check-up and left. The next two days were the weekend and she would be on mission detail. Clicking on a political article my eyes widened. A small rectangular pop-up jumped from the bottom of the screen. “Click Me!” Written in simple white text on a black background, I slid the mouse over to select it. The screen almost immediatley dissolving in a stream of code. Purple and pink flashing wildly. The screen finally came to rest with an unmistakable pink sugar skull.

A chat bubble now took up a good amount of the page. A single line of text at the top. “Have you made a decision?” My hand twitched. A shocked look gripped my face as my breathing picked up slightly. Before my hands could hit the keyboard, another line appeared. “Clock’s ticking, amiga.” There was a near consuming choir of voices filling my head. My mind snapping back to reality at an abrupt knock on the door. Carefully shutting the laptop I slid it under the bed before standing. The door cracked a little, then was pushed the rest of the way open. Ana entered with a stoic expression. Shutting the door behind her, she stepped forward. “Agent Gagné.” My face remained even and she nodded. Reaching a hand into her coat, she removed a familiar leather journal. My back went rigid. Ana stood still noticing the change in the atmosphere. “We need to talk Ellana-” 

“That’s none of your business.” My voice was cold and my insides made of ice. She shook her head, her voice low. “I need to know what this is Ellana.” Ana moved to hold the small book in both hands before opening it. My body and being wouldn’t react. Instead I stood unfazed, eyes studying the older snipers expression as she flipped through the endless pages of names. Each one crossed out by a simple black line. Her flipping ceasing as she snapped the book shut. I held her gaze with a cold one of my own. All anger had left me. A deep breath filled my lungs. ‘That’s more like it.’ My composure unshakable I raised an arm to salute the woman sharply. Her hands twitching at my movement. “Don’t ask, don’t tell mam.”

Ana sighed tucking the book back into her jacket. Taking a few steps to the door she stopped to turn her head back, “Who is Gaston?” Something snapped. All mental fortitude clicked off and my eyes dilated. Ana’s features stilled. My hand twitched uncontrollably, bones grinding together as I struggled to keep the hand still. Ana continued at my silence, “You have to start talking sooner than later dear, the commander isn’t a patient man. And I do not know how much longer I can keep him at bay.” She was gone in the next breath. My body quickly moving to return the laptop to an open position on the bed. The screen lighting up to reveal the chat-box still open. My hands ceased shaking, gliding over the keys. “I’m in.”

“We’ll be in touch.”


End file.
